


Focus

by queen_of_hells_bells



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Assisted Suicide, Attempted Murder, Character Growth, Dragons, Gods, Lots of it, Magic, Most of the time, Nonbinary Character, Original Character(s), Platonic Love, Unrequited Love, We've got it all folks, regular murder, technically they're not an omc but 'original nonbinary character' wasn't an option, they're all doing their best, whaddup all the tagged characters are ocs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-15
Updated: 2019-04-15
Packaged: 2020-01-13 16:56:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18473161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queen_of_hells_bells/pseuds/queen_of_hells_bells
Summary: Looking back on it, she wished she’d saved the healing potion.Looking back on it, she wished she’d gone home.----All Damaris wanted was to discover who she is, not save all the known realities.





	Focus

  **Day 104**

 

It had been three months since she’d left Thuisstad. Three months of scrambling to learn how to live, alone, in the woods. Three years of learning how to sit patiently, for hours, bow drawn, waiting for dinner to cross her path. Three months of learning to make fishing spears and traps. Three months of continually growing shame and sorrow about how she’d left her family. Three months of silence, and now this: sitting rigid in a pub in Gevaarlaats while four strangers glared her into submission.

“So,” the expression on the face of the muscular Elf directly across from her never changed as he picked up the sheet on which she’d scribbled her name. “Damaris Tarzi.” He looked up at her, expectantly, and she quirked her lips into a hesitant smile. “Tell me about yourself.”

“Um, well,” Damaris hesitated, her eyes flicking over to the Half-Elf on the end who had coughed into their drink at her stuttered start. She swallowed. “I’m from Thuisstad, I’ve been on the road for a few months, I can fight.” The Elf looked distinctly unimpressed and she rushed to deter him from stopping her.

"I’m really not any trouble or extra work, I’m perfectly fine feeding myself and.. and I can heal! I can heal myself, so you wouldn’t ever have to waste any supplies on me, I promise!” 

A single lightened eyebrow on the face of the Mountain Elf raised, slightly. “A Tiefling healer from Thuisstad, eh?” He leaned forward, pointedly ignoring the way his companions exchanged glances behind him. “It’s been a while since I was in Thuisstad. Seem to recall a Tiefling healer, a woman,” his voice trailed off and Damaris was quick to jump in.

“My mother. Del- Adella.”

“Right, right, of course.” He leaned back and glanced to the wood elf on his other side. “So what’s the daughter of Adella Tarzi doing looking for mercenary work? Surely you’d be happier at home doing,” he waved his hand, “magics.”

Damaris grimaced slightly and tightened her grip on her mug: “It’s important to try many types of work before settling into a profession.”

There were a few beats of silence as the three Elves watched their companion glare her drink into submission, broken when the Half-Elf leaned forward, grinning. “Ye said yer a fighter?” They glanced down and then back up at her, “Ye’ll forgive me for doubting it, only, I don’t see a weapon.” 

“Oh! Um,” they leaned back as Damaris slammed her hands into the underside of the table, nearly knocking their drinks onto the floor as she placed an old bow on the tabletop. “I shoot.” For the first time in their quick interview she managed a real smile as she smoothed her hand across it’s smooth curves.

The silence at the table made her look up: all three of her companions were staring, appalled, at her. The Half-Elf coughed. “Uh, right. Is that all ye’ve got with ye?” There was a longer moment of silence as Damaris reached back down and pulled up the knife she'd been carrying with her.

Even the one-eyed Wood Elf looked concerned when the small, rusty, blade was placed on the revealed.

“It’s not.. I know..” Damaris sighed, shoulders slumping. “I’ll just go. Thank you—"

The Mountain Elf’s hand shot out and grabbed her arm as she rose: “Sit.” 

She sat. 

He leaned back and released her arm. “You’ll just keep going out there, won’t you? If we send you away?” Damaris nodded shakily; he breathed out heavily through his nose. “And you’ll keep telling people your name and where you’re from and the names of your parents so that if you upset them they can just go and kill everyone you care about?”

Damaris’ eyes widened and she grabbed for her knife, “Don’t you even _think_ about touching my family I swear I-“ Her breath caught in her throat as it began to tighten, like water was going the wrong way through it. The Mountain Elf turned with a disapproving look towards the wood elf.

“Shiara, please. We’ve talked about this.” The Wood Elf—Shiara—shrugged, and Damaris’ chest heaved as her breath returned to it in a rush.

The Mountain Elf turned back to Damaris. “If we wanted to kill your family, child, there’s not a single thing you could do to stop us. Or anyone else. Which is why,” he sighed, his black eyes twinkled in the candlelight as he glanced to his companions, “you’re going to come with us. 

Damaris’ eyes widened and she opened her mouth to thank him as he held up his hand. “There are rules in this world. First: never give away all the information you’re asked for.” Damaris nodded insistently, eyes wide with nerves, “Second: if you are weak, you will die. Third: unless told strictly otherwise, everyone is trying to kill us; you have to make sure we kill them first.”

He stood, picking up his ale and giving Damaris a slight smile. “M’name is Jemrys Wylie, this is Shiara Kinde,” he nodded to the Wood Elf, who just raised her brows, “and Rosana Sarshon.” The Half-Elf waggled their fingers at her with a grin. “Welcome aboard.” 

And with that, Jemrys turned and walked away.

———

**Day 107**

Shiara looked down at Damaris, half curious and half murderous.

The two had wandered a little deeper into the woods for target practice: Shiara was summoning various creatures, figures, and weather conditions to see how Damaris coped with them. They’d also been using the time to chat a little about the respective backgrounds of Damaris and the members of the small band.

Conversation wasn’t overly stimulating as Damaris kept starting to tell Shiara everything she could think of before remembering Jemrys’ command to keep her mouth shut, and Shiara just wasn’t much of a sharer. She had been willing, however, to tell Damaris the story of her first kill: Shiara’s father, who she’d choked the life out of after she found him groping her baby brother.

Damaris, somewhere between appalled and amazed, had asked if killing was something Shiara did often, which led them to their current situation:

“What do you _mean_ you’ve never killed someone?" 

———

**Day 127**

“Mary!”

Rosana’s loud voice broke the late evening air as they stormed back into camp. “Mary, I brought you a gift!” Jemrys looked across the small fire at Damaris and sighed. Undoubtedly he knew already what the gift was, and had probably sent Rosana on the errand. They’d all been horrified to learn she’d never killed before, and were working on training her into what they considered “fighting shape”.

The last few weeks had seen her receive a few gifts: vials of poison that she’d shoved awkwardly into her medical kit, a magical staff that she’d given to Shiara in exchange for the woman not teasing her about her lack of magical aptitude, and a pair of swords that, despite Jemrys forcing her to practice with them every day, she had no intention of using seriously in battle. 

She assured them she was perfectly fine with just her bow and her knife, but they disagreed.

Rosana practically danced into their camp, swooping her bow out of her hands before she could stop them. They pulled it into their lap and looped a small ribbon around the bottom nock; even as Damaris made a small noise of complaint, a small silver shimmer ran across the curves of the wood and disappeared.

Giving a small grunt of pleasure, Rosana threw the bow back across the fire to Damaris’ protective arms. “Relax, Mary,” they grinned, “it’s just a charm to make her bites a bit more… potent.” 

Damaris held her glare for a moment, annoyed that Rosana had just done.. _something_ to her bow without permission, but let it fade under for force of their smile. Now they might actually let her help on one of their missions.

———

**Day 137**

“Damaris. _Focus_.” Jemrys’ words were punctuated by the collision of their blades. She held her shortsword under his bow for only a moment before crumbling under the pressure and having to dart backwards to avoid another slash to the chest.

He sighed, shoving one bladed end of his bow into the dirt and leaning against it. “Listen. I know you don’t like the blades, I know you prefer distance.”

Damaris spat into the dirt, breathing heavily as she tried to gather enough breath to assure him that she was fine. Her breath caught as she glanced down: the dirt was blended black with her red spit. 

Blood. 

Blood in her spit. What did that mean? Diseases, she knew, from her mom. She didn’t have any diseases. Infections, also, sometimes deadly ones. She’d have to check with Shiara when she got back to camp, have to pull out her medical kit, probably have to—

She was pulled abruptly from her thoughts by Jemrys’ heavy hand on her shoulder. “It’s from a hit.” She flinched as he ran a knuckle along an already-bruising cut on her cheek. “I should’ve been more careful, you’re still learning.”

His hand was swatted away: “I’m _fine_.” Damaris straightened and she twirled the sword in her right hand. “Just.. come on.”

Jemrys raised an eyebrow contemplatively. “Ya know;” Damaris rolled her eyes preemptively, “when I was young and joined up with my first troop, we lost six archers in a month.”

His tone was far too casual for the pain in his eyes and the shock in hers 

“After that I decided to take up shooting. Saw no point to killing a thousand archers.” Damaris stared at the ground as Jemrys walked away and pulled his bow out of the ground. “Someone is always going to sneak past the front lines eventually, Damaris. And then, if you’ve no way of handling the threat directly in front of you, I’ll have to replace you.”

Damaris stared at Jemrys, swallowing roughly. He shrugged and fell into a fighting stance. “Don’t make me replace you, Damaris.”

———

**Day 139**

The way that Shiara was looking at her had her bristling in annoyance. Her father had looked at her like that, and her mother, and her siblings, and Handtree Wirren, and every single _fucking_ person in Thuisstad. That slightly pitying, concerned look.

“ _No_ ,” Damaris repeated, her teeth gritting with effort, “I _don’t have_ any magic.”

Shiara hummed.

———-

**Day 2**

She had to leave.

She’d been considering it for a while, going to another village to train more exclusively in the arts of surgery and potion brewing. It hadn’t felt important, though, especially with her birthday and the extra time Baba had been taking lately to help her practice her archery. 

And then she’d woken up this morning to loud sounds of celebration. Wandering out into the kitchen to see Cece rolling a ball of light between her little purple fingers like it was the easiest thing in the world. Of course they were excited: another child blessed with the magic of the gods. 

That made three of four.

Wonderful.

———-

**Day 178**

Who knew that the eyes of a Dwarf are the last thing to go as he burns?

Damaris didn’t, and by the looks of it neither did Jemrys or Rosana. Shiara, as always, looked a little too smug about the whole thing.

Maybe it isn’t all Dwarves, or maybe it’s only Dwarves killed by a ripple of spectral blue flames that come from the tail of an angry Tiefling. Frankly, Damaris isn’t planning on burning any more Dwarves to test the theory.

She certainly hadn’t meant to burn this one. He’d thrown some spell at her and Shiara, standing a ways back and slinging in spells and arrows and, apparently, pissing off the Dwarf. Whatever the silver bead was that had shot out of his hands had made a monstrous thunderclap and thrown the two backwards and away from each other; Shiara had slammed her head into a tree and Damaris had just seen red.

Well, she’d actually just seen nothing, a simple silver haze that had felt, somehow, comforting. She’d watched, from the hug of fog, as a line of blue flame had blistered out from her tail and down the same trail that the Dwarf’s spell had followed.

And then he’d burned alive. And she was awake again. And they were both screaming.

———-

**Day 179**  

The only thought in her head, as she listened to the cautious praise of Jemrys and Rosana, and ignored Shiara’s smug commentary about how all Tieflings had magic, was that her parents might be proud of her now.

———-

**Day 187**

Rosana was in love with Shiara. Damaris was pretty sure no one else knew, though she wasn’t sure why. It was written all over their face, especially in the way they run to Shiara whenever she’s hurt and smother her with care. They bring her more gifts than anyone else, too, though she never seems to notice.

Damaris thinks it’s nice, though, and hopes it works out for them. She hopes she feels that was about someone one day.

———-

**Day 785**

This time, _finally_ , the use of her anger flame was intentional. The creature had hurt Jemrys and she wanted it to die crying.

At least now she was certain: her parents would be appalled by her.

———-

**Day 0**

Waking up on her 18th birthday Damaris had expected something to be different. Honestly, she’d been expecting magic. That was how it had happened to Baba, after all, and the two were so alike that Mama often commented that it was scary. Instead she was woken, as usual, by Rara jumping on her back and screaming.

If only it hadn’t been so usual for her to see the hope die in Mama’s eyes when she realized Damaris still wasn’t blessed. At least her birthdays couldn’t be more disappointing than this one.

———-

**Day 1467**

Apparently they could.

———-

**Day 1460**

The rule with Jemrys, Shiara, and Rosana was that birthdays lasted for a full month. 15 days before and 14 days after, or the other way. 30 days total.

This year’s had been simple: Rosana got her some exploding arrows, Jemrys had gotten her a knife specifically for skinning animals, and Shiara was teaching her how to skin and tan said creatures. Gifts with the gang were often like that, a group effort; the only rule was that they had to last for the entire month. For Jemrys, last year, they’d all pitched in and created the ultimate training routine for all of them to practice in. He _definitely hadn’t_ cried.

They’d found a small abandoned homestead in the Terchyinn Woods and had settled down to practice skinning and tanning, as well as general butchering. They were having a great time, and Damaris was pretty sure Shiara was starting to notice Rosana’s attentions. She was happy. 

Of course she was finally happy.

———-

**Day 1468**

It was her fault. She knew it, and she was pretty sure Rosana knew it, though they wouldn’t say it out loud. Jemrys said it was none of their faults, but she knew.

Neither Jemrys nor Rosana were healers, they had no business blaming themselves. Damaris had the ability to get to Shiara, had the choice between saving one friend and trying to save two others from wolves.

_Wolves_. Honestly.

She should have trusted that they could handle it. Jemrys and Rosana were incredible fighters; Shiara was laying on the ground bleeding out. She’d made the wrong choice, and everyone knew it.

———-

**Day 1500**

Rosana had handed Jemrys an amulet when they scampered into camp that night. They said it would keep him safer in battle. “She only had one,” had been the explanation.

Damaris tried to ignore a similar shape swinging against the inside of Rosana’s shirt.

———-

**Day 1561**

Damaris shifted uncomfortably under the occasional glare of Rosana. The Halfling woman sitting across the table from her giggled, and Damaris winced.

She liked being on this side of recruitment even less.

———-

**Day 1563**

The sentence “I’ve never met a Tiefling without any magic, before” was accompanied by a Halfling giggle and three identical winces.

———-

**Day 1481**

It had been instinctual, at this point, using her fire to protect Rosana. They’d been about to take a hit and just reached out and wreathed the tall human woman in flames. Rosana had jumped out of the way of the woman’s blade and grinned at Damaris. For the rest of the fight, everything had been like it was before, and for a moment she was happy.

That night at the campfire Rosana had dropped down beside her, bumped her with their elbow, and whispered “glad you could save _someone_.”

She didn’t use her fire after that.

———-

**Day 1585**

They all hated the Halfling. JoJo: her name was JoJo. It wasn’t her fault, she just wasn’t Shiara. It was the only thing they all agreed on anymore.

——-

**Day 1590**

“Damaris?” She slammed her head up to see Rosana looking inquisitively down at her, their long braid brushing against her stomach. They stared at each other for a moment before Rosana swallowed and blinked. “Mary, can I talk to you for a second?”

_Mary_. Her heart keened: they hadn’t called her Mary since Shiara died. She nodded numbly and took the outstretched hand that pulled her to her feet. Still holding her hand, Rosana pulled her away from the fire and into the woods. 

Jemrys looked up at them, concerned, even though they both waved him off. “Just wanna talk, Jemmy, don’t be such a dad.” Rosana’s use of Jemrys’ nickname made Damaris smile: they only used it when he was worrying over nothing.

_She_ was anxious though. The two had been talking more lately, but nowhere near the same amount they had before. She loved Rosana, they were like the older sibling she’d never had, and she wanted back the relationship they’d had before.

“I don’t blame you, you know.” Rosana settled them in a small clearing about fifty yards from camp, not bothering to light a fire when they could both see just fine in the dark. “For Shiara.” The explanation was unnecessary; she knew what they meant.

Rosana sighed and stretched out against a log. “Logically, I would probably have done the same thing. I mean, I wasn’t doing so well, and if I’d gone down then Jemmy certainly would have, and then what would you have done? Besides, she’d always been fine before.”

That was true. Shiara had gone unconscious in fights before and it had always been fine. It was just this _one_ time. 

Damaris looked down, away, and swallowed. “I, uh, thank you, but it is my fault. Jemrys always says I need to trust you and I was just so scared you two were... um...”

“Going to die?” Rosana’s voice was soft, quiet, caring, like they were speaking to a child. It was nice, calming, and Damaris sighed. 

She sighed again when, as anticipated, she felt a blade against the back of her neck.

“I really don’t blame you, but we both know that I can’t let—“ they broke off as Damaris reached up and grasped their arm.

“I understand.” She dropped her hand to her side and leaned back into the pressure of the dagger. 

The two sat in the forest, a strange tableau, both crying, for one, two, five, ten minutes, until she gasped, a burst of blue flame shooting from her neck and wreathing Rosana.

He screamed, falling backwards, and she rolled forward into a fighting stance, pulling her knife out of her boot. She stood, silent, watching her best friend burn as he cried, until she realized she was crying as well. She didn’t want to approach him; she wanted to run and to hide and die, but her mind cleared.

The familiar warm white fog of the fire wrapped her up in its embrace and pushing away her sadness. Focus, it seemed to be saying. _Damaris. Focus._

She kneeled beside Rosana, quietly shushing them like she used to do Cece and Bean, running her hand over their body. Every place she touched dispelling the embers that covered them. She reached down to her medical kit before stopping and looking down at her friend. 

“I need you to tell me. I need to know if you understand. You’re in so much pain, Roro, and I need to know...” She trailed off, sniffling, as Rosana reached up and grabbed her hand.

They grinned weakly. “Remember when we picked ye up, lass? Ye said ‘I’m nae trouble’.” They choked out a laugh, wiping away a little blood, “Now that was a feckin lie.”

Despite herself, Damaris found herself giggling. “I know that’s not your accent, asshole.” The two smiled at each other for a moment, broken when Rosana slowly pushed their head up into her lap.

“Mary... I understand, okay? And I need you to understand that. You’re going to forgive yourself for Rara one day, I know that, for this, though.. this is all on me, okay?” They pulled Damaris’ hand away from the med kit and smiled.

———-

**Day 1622**  

“Here Lies Rosana Sarshon, aged 87 years, All Spent Understanding The Condition of Mortality”

It was a 30-day hike back to a Shiara’s grave and a 30-minute burial.

———-

**Day 1621**

Jemrys didn’t blame her, which was the weird thing. He mourned heartily the loss of his second oldest friend, but at campfires he pulled Damaris close and told her it wasn’t her fault. It had been her or them, and even Rosana hadn’t wanted it to be them. They were happier now, he knew that.

She still insisted on engraving the headstone herself.

———-

**Day 1592**

_“Jemrys, my brother._

_Damaris, my sister._

_My dearest family._  

_And JoJo, I suppose._

_I must apologize both for my recent actions and for what I am about to do. I’ve often been told that I am selfish and uncaring of the emotions of others. It’s probably true, despite what you always told me, Jemstone. I cared too much about Shiara’s ghost and let it impact my relationship with the rest of my family; I cared too much about my own emotions to care that I was hurting yours. It wasn’t Mary’s fault that Shiara was killed, it was the fault of the wolves that attacked her. Mary just made a judgement call that we’ve all made hundreds of times ourselves; how could she have known this time would be so different?_

_Either way, I reserved a place for all of you at an adventuring post in the Jesrin Desert. It’s called The Refresher which, I know, horrible name, but I’ve worked with them in the past and they do good work. Yes, I even reserved a place for JoJo. None of you have to take them but I knew the Watchmaster there, he’s a good man who will watch out for you. Of course maybe don’t mention that Mary killed me; Edwin is quite... fond of me, you might say._  

_Which, of course, if you’re reading this, Mary did kill me. Either we fought and I lost, or I asked. Likely the second. Actually, likely a combination of the both. You’re far too kind for your own good, little sister, far too kind for this life. Please retain that, if you do nothing else. The world needs more kindness._

_Please remember, if nothing else, how much I loved you both. I just can’t live without Shiara beside me. Once again, Mary, I can’t express enough both my apologies and my thanks for what you’ve done._

_Your most affectionate brother,_

_Rosana Kandira Sarshon”_

It didn’t help, but they made a copy of it anyway so that they would both have it.

———-

**Day 1633**

Damaris woke up and Jemrys was gone. He’d left her alone, at a camp, in the middle of the desert, with JoJo, and hadn’t even said goodbye.

She cried.

———- 

**Day 1650**

He must hate her for what she did to their little family. It was the only option for what had happened. _She_ hated herself, after all. 

———-

**Day 1861**

JoJo left The Refresher with some group of mercenaries that were looking for something in a cave temple. She’d come to their bunk, tucked her nice headscarf in securely, and promised to be back within ten days.

Damaris stood in the doorway of the mess hall and watched them go. A Human, a Dwarf, a Dragonborn, a Half-Orc, and a Tabaxi. She didn’t trust them, but then again she didn’t trust anyone.

———-

**Day 1872**

JoJo wasn’t back and Damaris had gone to find her.

That stupid group that had taken her happy Halfling friend had found their cave and defeated some sort of water monster, apparently.

They’d also gotten her friend killed.

So she stayed. It wasn’t like she had anyone else to live for, and besides, this group of idiots apparently needed a healer.

———-

**Day 1893**

She must have been hallucinating. She was standing, again, over the bodies of dead comrades and the corpses of wolves. 

_Wolves_.

Shitty beasts to be so _damn_ deadly.

They’d had a coin that they said would save them all from death but there had been a cost and she’d had to decide, again, who lived and who died because of some _fucking_ wolves.

———-

**Day 1900**

They picked up a little thief. A Halfling, a girl, but otherwise Rosana to her core. Damaris had somehow become the one they all looked to to decide who joined their group, and she couldn’t leave this small Halfling to die because someone else took advantage of her.

She couldn’t help but wonder how Jemrys has handled so many recruitments.

———-

**Day 1930**

The party, they were a _party_ , apparently, had bought her gifts. A quiver that could hold more arrows than she could ever dream of, and a bag that could hold everything else. In exchange for the gifts she held all their money.

It didn’t make any sense that they would trust her of all people but the human woman, Xima, had laughed that “you seem to die the least,” like it was a joke.

Damaris didn’t sleep that night.

———- 

**Day 1941**

They’d broken into the ancient hideout of a group of thieves, risked their lives several times, discovered ancient artifacts that would help their little thief, Xini, be in less danger. Damaris was relieved at having a single less concern.

And then Xini sat on an ancient altar and was sucked into another dimension. It took twenty minutes and all their gold to get their little thief back. 

And the other dimension had taken all her new protections.

———-

**Day 1946**

Of course they were upset with her, it was her fault. She was the one who wanted to go into the monastery, the one who was curious to see and hear about their religion and their practices, the one who hadn’t wanted to leave when the attack started. She’d almost gotten her entire group—party—killed along with the monks, and then she’d stormed off into the forest.

If Kriv hadn’t been with her, she probably would have been killed by the pretty monk. It had been irresponsible, and she knew it.

She would do better.

———-

**Day 1948**

It started with a set of lock picks and a knife for Xini. Then gemstones for Xima, then a nice sword for Kriv. She could explain them all away, pointing out that Xini had had literally all her things taken by the other dimension in the ancient altar, that Xima needed the gems to use one of her most powerful weapons, that Kriv’s sword was an embarrassment to swordsmen everywhere.

It was easier than admitting that she might care about these people, that she might be the cause of their deaths.

———-

**Day 2008**  

When they arrived at the battlefield in the North, Damaris was nervous. Tetchy; with an itchy trigger hand. They were too close to Thuisstad for her comfort, and a battlefield near home meant that Mama or Baba might be here. 

Instead of seeing them, she shot a boy who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. He had red hair and she wasn’t going to fail Shiara twice. She healed him, sent him home, and turned back to the fight. 

Looking back on it, she wished she’d saved the healing potion.

Looking back on it, she wished she’d gone home. 

———-

**Day ?**

What _is_ the correct response to an god with the shape of a dragon destroying your reality and everyone you’ve ever considered family?

For that matter, what’s the correct response to a _second_ dragon god transporting you and your adventuring party to another reality so you can become his champions and save all realities?

Apparently not crying.

———-

**Day 2012**

The other reality has Vampires that drink from her neck and call her “exotic”. It also has a village of dinosaur-riding humans who call her “demon” and run her out of town. Demon seems like a common insult in these parts, though it’s only ever used against Damaris, never against her fellow Tiefling.

Maybe it’s because he’s pink.

———-

**Day 2020**

It’s been a long time since the white fog gave her a hug. Longer since she used her fire, and she idly wonders if the two are connected. She’s been enjoying spending time in the healing tent, though, while she thinks about it. Despite the fact that a god told them they were supposed to save all the realities, they’ve mostly just been hanging out on the beach and practicing fighting.

That’s okay with Damaris. She’d rather spend time practicing her sutures than her shooting, and she doesn’t think the party minds a little time away from her, either.

———-

**Day 2013**

They were in their new reality for four days when the little thief pulled Damaris a few steps to the side of the group and down to her level. “Look,” she’d said, trying for a serious expression, “I understand that you’re sad,”

At this a quiet “gods” was heard from the party at large; perhaps they’d talked about this discussion beforehand.

“I understand that you’re sad, and that you lost your whole family or whatever, but that god is still out there and he’s gonna destroy all realities. So. We’ve gotta stop other people from being sad the way you are." 

It was the most simplistic and insulting condolence speeches Damaris had ever heard, and it was from a supposed adult. She wanted to scream, to walk away from this infuriating group of strangers that had taken so much from her before they’d even known she existed, and sighed.

“Xini. I. Understand that he’s planning on destroying all realities and that it’s apparently our problem. It has, however, been one week since I lost my entire family, and I’m going to take just a second more to mourn them, okay?" 

The little thief looked extremely disappointed in her, the party looked amused, and Damaris wanted nothing more than to scream.

———-

  **Day 2024**

Standing in the abandoned temple of the town that had once called her a demon and run her out, holding a small stylized metal sun, surrounded by the ruins of a once-prosperous town, Damaris didn’t know what to do but to pray.

For the first time in a long time, she felt a warm fog and heard a quiet voice telling her:  _Focus_.

———-

**Day 2035**

She’d failed, again. She couldn’t protect the soldiers that the Legion of Dusk had sent into the Aclaztoz temple with them, couldn’t break through the door of vines, couldn’t crack the puzzle. Failed.

She sighed heavily, leaning back against the obelisk and staring at the large mirror at the end of the room. Ostensibly she was on watch, but on watch for what? There was nothing in the room and no visible or magical entrances that they’d been able to find. 

_Focus_.

She huffed an annoyed breath. Yes, _thank you_ , Jemrys, let me just _focus_ some more, go fuck yourself. It had been years since he’d first told her that and she still didn’t know what it meant.

“Ma.. Mary?” Damaris started, turning, and relaxed when she saw Xima behind her. “I’m taking next watch, you get some sleep,” the Human woman grinned sleepily, and yawned. “You earned it today.” 

“Hm.” Damaris pursed her lips but began to lay out her bedroll anyway. “And it’s not Mary. May, Ris, not Mary.”

Xima looked concerned at Damaris’ tone, but she just rolled over and went to sleep.

———-

**Day 2036**

_—your fault._ Rosana.

_Focus_. Jemrys.

_**Feel** the magic_. Shiara.

_Risa!_ ...who?

_Ris!_ She couldn’t... couldn’t identify..

_Damaris_! Was that? Kiki?

_Damaris!_ And Cece?

_May!_ And Bean! Her siblings! Damaris turned in the white space to see her siblings, only they looked older, and.. angrier?

Kiki had a sword strapped across her back? And scars? Cece looked so tired and Bean.. looked sick.

She opened her mouth to comfort them when, _Damaris Tarzi!_

She spun again, faced with her parents, their faces a little more weathered, a little more tired, and mostly relieved. She heaved a heavy sigh and went to move towards them then their faces began to bubble and change.

Baba aged visibly, his nearly-maroon brown skin desaturating to gray and hardening, his hair frizzing up as though he’d been struck by violent lightning, and his arms bulked with impossible strength.

Mama softened, upsettingly so. Her face lost all recognizable definition, her arms could have been arms or perhaps just more hair; she began to blur together into a swirl of leaves and branches.

And yet Damaris recognized them: Talos and Chaunthea, as depicted on the holy symbols her parents kept in the house. As one they leaned forward and boomed, in thunder and lightning and wind that somehow was still sounds, **Damaris Tarzi,** again and again until her head spun, and she was spinning, and just as she fell to the ground of the white space her vision whited out. Or maybe it cleared. And all she heard was Jemrys.

_Focus._

She awoke with a start, a sparkle of blue on her fingers.

**Author's Note:**

> So this is actually the backstory of my D&D character, who I love very much, but I liked it? So I decided to post it. I dunno, I'm working on getting back into writing and this was a pretty chill way to do it.
> 
> \----
> 
> Anyway I'm sure ya ain't interested but in case you are, races and classes:  
> Damaris is a pure black Tiefling non-magic ranger/favored soul sorcerer.  
> Her sister Kiki is a pink Tiefling mountain druid/champion fighter.  
> Her sister Cece is a lavender Tiefling level 1 nature cleric.  
> Her brother Bean brown-skinned Tiefling is a level 2 bard.  
> Her "mama", Adella is a gray-skinned Tiefling high-level nature cleric.  
> Her "baba", Cassian is a maroonish-dark-brown-skinned Tiefling high-level tempest cleric-turned-surgeon.  
> Jemrys is a Mountain Elf Hunter (it's a home-brew race and class, actually. very fun.)  
> Rosana is a Half-Elf Swashbuckler Rogue.  
> Shiara is a Wood Elf Twilight Druid.  
> Xini is a Halfling Thief Rogue.  
> Xima is a Human Lore Bard.  
> Kriv is a red Dragonborn Battlemaster Fighter.  
> "The Other Tiefling", Darc, is a hot pink Tiefling Life Cleric.  
> "A Dwarf" is Rurik, a Devotion Paladin.  
> "The Half-Orc" is Farzac, a Sun Soul Monk.
> 
> \----
> 
> "The Tabaxi" was the one who was sacrificed after the wolf fight; I was less 200 gold to save them all.
> 
> \----
> 
> Anyway, if anyone wants to talk about Tiefling genetics or anything about D&D just hmu I'm literally always down.


End file.
